


her smile, I'm sure, burnt Rome to the ground

by queenhawke



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhawke/pseuds/queenhawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn't meant to seek out a younger River, not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	her smile, I'm sure, burnt Rome to the ground

**Author's Note:**

> Young!River/young!Doctor because there isn't enough of that. Set somewhere after DotM for him, and sometime after LKH for her. Title from House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski.

He hadn’t  _meant_  to seek out a younger River, not really.

He’d just been curious, figured looking up her university wouldn’t hurt. And this wasn’t a spoiler, not really. She said she had studied archaeology, she waved the damn title in front of everyone to see. Honestly, he wasn’t even looking for  _her_ , just… Well, maybe he had been looking for her a bit. A tiny bit. Listen, if there was any danger of horribly changing their timelines, the TARDIS wouldn’t have brought him here.

Bottom line, it wasn’t his fault he was standing in a students’ dorm face-to-face with Not-Even-A-Bachelor River Song. Who was eyeing him very apprehensively. And was keeping her right hand very close to the gun strapped to her thigh.

“So you don’t know who I am?”

The Doctor nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Well, sort of. I mean, I’ve met you before. Quite a few of times, I suppose. I know  _some_ things. For instance…” He paused, trying desperately to come up with something that wasn’t a spoiler. “…you like guns? And – and you’re good at shooting things.”

She rolled her eyes at that. A familiar gesture, yet it looked different, somehow.  _The age, it can’t be right. Becoming a Doctor takes years, she ought to look younger, yet she looks the same as ever._

That’s why he wanted to see the university. He had the sneaking suspicion she’d been lying about the whole archaeology thing. Anyone could call themselves a doctor, or a professor. That little crew that was with her at the Library ( _no, no, don’t think about that too much_ ) proved nothing, she could have fooled them too, or bought them. When he was scrolling through the records of various 51st century universities, her name had popped up, but records could be tampered with. And what kind of self-respecting time traveler would get into archaeology anyway? That was just rubbish. And cheating.

He really had no choice but to check. Amy and Rory were at home, getting some peace and quiet after that pregnancy scare (which he really had to check out as well, there was something terribly wrong there), so off he went. Just to check. Just briefly. Honestly. He still hadn't meant to run into her.

“Out with it then,” River said, dragging him back to reality with her voice. “Why are you here? Isn’t this against your little  _rules_?” She spat out the last world like it was something vile.

“My future self’s rules, you mean. And they’re as much your rules as they are mine. I like them no more than you.”

She looked at him, incredulously. “ _You_  made them!”

“From my point of view, you made them. Or – well, you told me they were my rules, but I guess I will – am going to – make them because you told me about them.  Wibbly wobbly etcetera.”

River made an exasperated noise and flung herself onto a worn-looking couch.

“This is ridiculous.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Tell me about it. I have to say, it’s nice not being the only one who’s frustrated by this whole mess.”

River didn’t laugh. She was looking down at her knees, plucking at a hole in the fabric of the couch. “It’s a mess, is it? Our… relationship. Whatever it is,” she said softly.

The grin faded.  _Oh_.  He wasn’t really prepared for this. She was always so confident when it came to their…  _whatever it is._ She loved him, he was sure of that, he could see it in the way she looked at him, hear it in her voice when she talked to him. It scared the hell out of him, but at the same time… it was comforting. Knowing there was someone who cared this much for him even though she knew  _everything_. Loved him without the hero-worship he’d usually get from his companions.

Older River would have agreed. It was a mess. An utterly fascinating mess, but whatever they had going on wasn’t your standard happily ever after forever and always fairytale romance. But she wanted it nevertheless, she’d  _begged_  him not to change it. Not one line ( _but don’t think about that, never think about that)_.

But this River… His comment must’ve hurt her. He guessed. It frustrated him that even this young, he was incapable of reading her face. He gingerly sat down next to her, briefly hovering his hand over hers before deciding she might shoot him if he touched her, and putting his hands in his lap.

“Well, it’s not… conventional. Whatever it is we have.”

“Understatement of the century,” she mumbled, turning away from him to look out of the window. No shooting, at least.

A heavy silence fell between them. He fumbled with his jacket a bit while she continued to stare outside.  _I’m sorry_ , he wanted to say,  _I’m sorry I’m young and rubbish and don’t know how to deal with this_. He stood up abruptly, startling her.

“I should – this was a mistake, I shouldn’t have – we’re too early, both of us – I should leave.” He fidgeted on the spot, not leaving. River stared at him, opening her mouth as if to speak. She sighed instead. She tugged harshly on his sleeve, causing him to lose balance and fall down on the couch again.

“Have you ever kissed me?”

He flailed at that, hands flapping around like anxious moths, but she stilled them and looked him right in the eye.  _Her eyes are younger. So much younger, but the rest of her isn’t._ He wanted to grab her, ask her who she was,  _what_  she was, but something in those young, young eyes told him she wasn’t sure who she was either.

She cupped his face now, a bit rougher than that other time she’d cupped his face, that time she’d kissed him and he’d told her it was his first time and he’d  _seen_  the hurt in her eyes right before he closed the doors of the TARDIS. (He’d seen that look in her eyes before, in the Library, but he mustn’t think about that, he must  _never_  think about that.)

“Have you?” she asked insistently, her eyes still boring into his.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

That seemed to be enough for her, and she hauled his mouth against hers.

It wasn’t at all like that first time. She’d been gentle and loving that time, and he’d been awkward and pleasantly surprised. This was frantic, teeth dragging over lips and his hands burying themselves in her mane of golden curls and one of her hands sliding from his face so her thumb could trail the pulse in his neck.  _She killed a man, a good man._ Father Octavian’s warning flashed through his mind then, but River thrust her tongue into his mouth and he didn’t care, could not care about anything but the feel of her. He whimpered – a pitiful, needy sound he didn’t even know he could make. If he had to die in some way, surely death by River Song was far preferable to anything else.

She climbed onto his lap, soft curves suddenly pressing against his  _everything_. Her small hands started tugging at his tweed and he heard himself making that pathetic noise again as she forced his hands to leave her glorious hair so she could take the jacket off. Her mouth never left his though, kissing him deeply and roughly. She ground her hips against his, moaning loudly, and he felt like he was drunk – his thoughts seemed to be completely clogged up by the pure sensation of  _her_  and he thought that if he opened his eyes surely the whole world would be spinning. He didn’t even notice when she undid his bowtie or when she tugged down his braces.

He came to his senses, however, when she started unbuttoning his trousers.

“Wait – River –“ He tilted his head away from hers, but she simply started on his neck. “River – hang on, _River!_ ” He wrenched her hands away and she finally stopped and looked at him, a hint of disappointment and annoyance on her face.

“Listen – we can’t – I’ve never – I mean, not  _never_ , just –“ He was stumbling over his words, looking for the right thing to say. River rolled her eyes.

“Is it the  _rules_  again? What is it, ‘rule 48, don’t fuck someone you don’t know everything about’? ”

He winced at her harsh tone. “Generally it isn’t the best idea to…” he waved his hands around nervously, “… _you know_ , with someone you don’t know.”

“You know me, somewhat. You said so yourself. Besides, you seem to be perfectly fine with kissing. Sex is just the more…  _involved_  version of kissing.” He blushed and she grinned, suddenly looking like her older self again, all flirtatious teasing and confidence.

“That’s not – River, I’ve never done…  _that_  with you, and I’m guessing you haven’t either, with me?”

“No, which is why you should stop talking so we can fix this immediately.”

“Well, that’s why we can’t just – we’re too  _young_ , both of us. We’re not like this, usually. In synch I mean. We’re back to front: my firsts are your lasts, that sort of thing.”

River frowned. “Well that’s stupid.”

He wanted to scream in frustration. Was this how River felt when she had to deal with him?  He made a mental note to apologise profusely when he next met an older version of her. She’d been patient with him, he needed to do the same, even if he was still as unknowledgeable as ever. His fingers stroked her hips absent-mindedly. When had he put his hands there?  _I ought to stop, I ought to leave, this isn’t right._

She had a point, though.

“It is. It’s really stupid.”

“Then tell me why we shouldn’t do this. Or don’t you want to?” She bit her lip, and back was the young, insecure River. As if she’d heard his thoughts, she straightened up and shrugged. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I can always find someone else.”

_What did that mean?_ Was she just trying to act tough? Was that all this was to her, just a quick fuck?  _What is this to me?_ The thought startled him. Well, he knew what it was to him. But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t allow himself to acknowledge it. He wouldn’t fall again, not ever, he wasn’t going to be that foolish again.

He also wasn't very good at lying to himself.

“I – I do want to, it’s just… Our firsts are never the same. That’s not how it works. I shouldn’t even  _be_  here.”

“Isn’t that why we  _should_  do it, then?”

He was lost for words.

“If our timelines never match up, shouldn’t we take this chance now? We might never be in synch again. I say we seize this moment and make this first a first for both of us,” she spoke softly. He frowned.

“But –“

River sighed. “Has my future self ever said anything about not having sex with me when I’m… young, as you say?”

“No, but –“

“Neither has your future self said anything about it. If it was really that terrible, I’m sure either of us would have warned us.”

Well. He couldn’t really argue with that. And it didn’t… it didn’t have to mean anything. She’d been right, it’s not like it was much worse than kissing. He liked the kissing. He might as well take it a step further. It didn’t mean – it was fine. Absolutely fine.

“Well?”

He nodded.

She beamed at him. “Well then, let’s move to the bed. This couch smells like beer and students.”

 

When he woke up the following morning, he was alone. On the kitchen table was a note in River’s handwriting.

_Went to lecture. Please leave.  
R._

It wasn’t even signed with a kiss.


End file.
